Chapter 57: The First Day! First Lesson!

The rain poured down in torrents.

It cascaded down the towering spires and winding walls of the castle, forming glistening rivulets that flowed into the darkness of the night. The sky, torn apart by invisible hands, was streaked with brilliant flashes of lightning, illuminating the castle in a series of flickering bursts.

With each deafening clap of thunder, the eerie glow from the storm briefly painted the landscape in harsh, contrasting shadows. Yet, amidst the relentless downpour, a strange creature lurked beneath the eaves, hidden in the shadows.

It stared silently into the dormitory.

Watching.

Waiting.

The fragile glass of the Ravenclaw dormitory's window was no real barrier to its inevitable intrusion.

However—

"Chirp!"

A piercing cry split through the night.

A fiery silhouette burst forth in the blinding glare of the storm, like a ray of dawn piercing through the oppressive darkness. The lurking creature flinched, sensing a formidable threat.

It fluttered erratically, resembling a demonic stingray with wings. The fiery figure pursued it relentlessly, and in the blink of an eye, both vanished into the depths of the stormy sky.

Silence returned.

As if nothing had ever happened.

The rain continued to fall.

---

By morning, the storm had finally abated.

The heavy black curtain of the night gradually lifted, revealing the soft hues of dawn creeping over the horizon. Raindrops transitioned from a frantic downpour to a gentle drizzle before ceasing entirely, leaving behind only the rhythmic sound of water dripping from rooftops and leaves.

A gentle blue-violet glow spread across the sky, signaling the arrival of a new day.

"You guys are still sleeping?!"

William, the green-haired boy, was always the last to sleep—but also the first to wake. His internal clock was so precise that it even outmatched Ian's notoriously disciplined sleep schedule.

"It's the first day of school! Do you really want to be late? I heard that Hogwarts punishes tardy students by banning them from the library!"

Ian, still lost in dreams, remained unresponsive.

But William was not one to give up easily.

Grabbing Ian's shoulders, he shook him violently.

Ian groggily pried open his heavy eyelids—only to be greeted by a blur of bright green.

"...Why does it feel like I woke up in the middle of a grassy field?"

He pushed William's head aside and sat up sluggishly.

"That's my hair! My hair!" William muttered as he turned and gave Michael a firm shake, but it barely made a difference. The man slept like a rock—far deeper than most.

"Maybe a slap would work."

Ignoring him, Ian yawned and stretched. His sleepy gaze lingered on William's striking green locks, his mind still half-submerged in scientific curiosity.

Given that green pigments don't effectively block ultraviolet light, and that mammals lack the genetic ability to naturally produce green hair, it was highly unlikely that a human would develop such a color naturally.

Which could only mean one thing—

Somewhere in William's ancestry, there had been some highly questionable magical experiments.

Probably involving reptilian or amphibian traits.

Possibly even egg-laying creatures.

"Good idea!"

William had no idea that Ian was mentally dissecting his family lineage. He enthusiastically took his roommate's words as a suggestion and promptly turned to their third dormmate, Michael.

With absolutely no hesitation, he delivered a resounding slap—

Straight to Michael's chest.

THWACK!

Michael shot upright, eyes wide in shock.

"I meant his face, not his ribcage!" Ian gasped.

He was beginning to suspect that William had been sorted into the wrong house. With his reckless decision-making, he seemed better suited for Gryffindor.

"I just thought this would be more effective. And, you know, maybe a bit more polite." William gave an awkward chuckle, attempting to pat Michael's chest as if to comfort him.

"I don't care about politeness—I care about my life!" Michael gasped, scooting away from him.

His body had gone from deep sleep to full battle mode in an instant.

Adrenaline truly was a miracle.

"Sorry," William apologized sincerely, though it did little to ease Michael's death glare.

"Next time, just slap my face. My mom does it all the time. You don't need to be shy about it."

As Ian darted into the bathroom before either of them could react, Michael massaged his sore chest, vowing never to sleep too deeply in this dorm again.

---

After freshening up, the trio made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Oatmeal, bread rolls, orange juice, smoked fish, eggs, bacon, toast, buttered jam-covered bread, cornflakes—Hogwarts' breakfast spread was nothing short of a feast.

Nutritious.

Delicious.

And, most importantly, caffeinated.

Ian downed a glass of lemon water, letting the sharp citrus jolt his senses awake.

And thus began the Great Breakfast Battle.

Unsurprisingly, Michael—being the tallest and most muscular of the three—claimed victory. Ian came in second, while William, utterly defeated, blamed his loss on last night's roasted chicken.

"Mate, the chicken did nothing wrong," Michael said solemnly, still savoring the memory of his meal.

With their stomachs full, the trio sprinted toward the seventh floor.

Their first class of the term was Transfiguration, taught by none other than Professor Minerva McGonagall. The Ravenclaws would be sharing the lesson with Hufflepuff students.

Every class at Hogwarts was structured with two Houses together, though the pairings varied. This setup encouraged competition while also subtly reminding students that, despite the grandeur of Hogwarts, each year's intake was relatively small.

The bustling classroom, even with two Houses combined, barely held thirty students.

"Look! There's a cat on the desk!"

William pointed excitedly.

Sure enough, a tabby cat sat perched on the professor's desk, its keen eyes surveying the arriving students.

Ian smirked, already expecting this.

Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a piece of freeze-dried raw meat—his secret weapon.

But—

He was too slow.

"Kitty! Soft and fluffy! Cute little cat!"

Michael, tapping into some hidden superpower, teleported forward and reached out to pet the feline.

Ian had mere seconds to react.

"There's a cat in the classroom!"

As soon as the three of them stepped inside, they noticed a tabby cat lounging on the professor's desk.

Ian, who had been eagerly anticipating this moment for over a week, instantly reached into his robes, retrieving a carefully prepared piece of freeze-dried raw meat.

However—

He was a step too slow.

"Kitty, soft and fluffy, what a good little cat! This must be the professor's pet!"

Michael, humming an impromptu tune, took full advantage of his agility. In a blur, he darted past Ian, reaching out to pet the cat before anyone else could react.

Ian, seeing his chance slip away, made a swift decision.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall."

His voice was calm and respectful as he gave a small bow to the feline on the desk, subtly tucking the freeze-dried meat back into his robes.

"What—?"

Michael barely had time to process what Ian had said before—

With a graceful transformation, the tabby cat disappeared, replaced by Professor McGonagall herself.

Michael's hand, frozen mid-air, now hovered awkwardly between them. His expression shifted from excitement to sheer horror as he stared up at the stern face of the Transfiguration professor.

"Impressive observation, Mr. Prince."

Professor McGonagall barely spared the now-blushing Michael a glance before shifting her focus to Ian. She studied him with an odd expression, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke with a touch of formality.

"While there is no strict rule against eating in class, I must advise you against consuming spoiled food. It could be detrimental to your health, and I do hope you're not being overly frugal at the cost of your well-being."

Her sharp gaze lingered on Ian, growing even more peculiar.

Something about the way he had been holding that piece of dried meat…

It certainly didn't look like he intended to eat it himself.